“Alden Jeremiah Kirk, I will not put up with this. You don’t sound sick, and you just said you’ve been working non-stop. If you can work, then you can come see your parents for Thanksgiving. We see you so little as it is, honey. I miss my baby.”
Damn, she was laying it on thick this year. If it had been any other time, I probably would have said okay by now, but this year was different. I really was sick, and I was scared to even think about what it could be. The last person I wanted to talk about it with was my overbearing mother, though, so I was staying far away from their New York loft this year and firmly in my little cabin nest where I could write and obsess over memories with Hale.
“Sorry, Mom. I can’t. I’ve been having chills and throwing up for over a week now. I’m tired all the time, and all I want to do is work and sleep. You’d have an awful time if you caught what I’ve got, whatever it is, so just take my rain check, and I’ll call you before Christmas so we can make plans.”
“Alden, I told you I’m not taking no for an answer this year. We’re having that nice young man from the Times over for drinks Friday night, and I expect you to be here to meet him. He’s seen your picture, and he’s anxious to talk to you about a column or something.”
And there it was, Mother being Mother, yet again. Now feeling absolutely no guilt for saying no, I crackled some nearby paper on my desk and lied. “Mom? I didn’t hear you. Mom? Are you still there? You’re breaking up.” After a second or two more of that, I hung up and put the phone on silent. With Thanksgiving the day after tomorrow, I would just avoid the phone until afterward, then apologize. Asking forgiveness was always the better option, in my opinion.
Running to the bathroom to take a quick shower, I was in and out in no time before the next wave of nausea hit, and I was heaving over the toilet with nothing to show for it. Crackers and peppermint tea had become my main sustenance the last week, but I was getting really tired of this crap. I had asked Hale if he felt okay when I texted him yesterday but hadn’t pursued it further when he said he was fine. He pushed me to tell him if I was still not feeling great, but today, I’d lied and said it was all better and it had probably been a virus or something. He had a few lessons on his schedule today and had said he’d call, but he hadn’t called yet, and it was getting late. I worked some, but I wound up watching the clock more than anything, so I turned on some music and tried to read.
After another hour passed with no call, I texted him, but it only said delivered, not read. More time passed, and I started pacing the floor, worry eating at me. Where was he? Had something happened? Did anyone there even know he had a mate?
That train of thought was a mistake.
Had he told anyone he had a mate? Did he have someone back home already? Had he decided he liked them better than me, so he was ducking my calls?
The incessant questions in my brain became more and more negative the later it got. I lay down on the sofa, eventually watching the flames in the fireplace dance, but even the fireplace reminded me of Hale and our time together. I started crying, then sobbing as I talked myself into believing that Hale had used me and thrown me away because I was a nerdy book writer and he was a fabulous magical celebrity. I was dumb to have believed he’d want me to move with him to the freaking North Pole.
The tears continued and wouldn’t stop. Even when I got sick, I was crying and throwing up at the same time. It was right at that moment I knew what it was.
I was pregnant.
I had fucked around, and now was the finding-out portion of my life. I cried until I was exhausted, so I ate a cracker and fell asleep on the sofa. How could it get any worse than this?
…….
“Alden, honey, wake up. Mother’s here to spend the holiday with you.”
Coming out of my crying jag stupor, I thought I was still dreaming. My nightmares had all felt so real last night, but they’d all been about Hale, not my mother.
“Alden, for heaven’s sake, child, you have no food in this place. No wonder you’ve been sick. All you have is crackers and tea. Good thing I brought groceries, or we’d be hunting turkeys in the woods for Thanksgiving and taking it really old school.”
“Darling, I don’t think he’s feeling well, so maybe keep the jokes to a minimum for a bit.”
Holy shit, that was my dad. Peeking through my lashes, I saw Mother rushing around my kitchen, opening cabinets and banging pots, while Dad was standing back with his hands in his pockets, looking around the room for something.
“Alden, where’s your TV? The game is coming on in an hour, and I don’t want to miss kick-off.”
Giving up on playing dead, I groaned and sat up. It was way too fast because I immediately had to run to the bathroom, but on the way, I yelled, “No TV, Dad. Sorry.”
I heard raised voices while I upchucked into the toilet, then brushed my teeth and came back into the living room. Both my parents were staring at me in the strangest way, so I went back into the bathroom to see if I’d left toothpaste on my nose. Seeing nothing wrong but wiping my face anyway, just in case, I picked up my glasses on the side table and slid them on.
“I’m not sure how to ask this without sounding rude as hell, but I will try anyway. What are ya’ll doing here? And how did you even find out where I was?”
Mother didn’t look fazed by the question, but she still looked paler than before. Dad had sat down at the table and pulled out his phone. Probably to find the game streaming service that might work up here.
“Sweetheart, we’re here because you need us right now. We’ve known where the cabin was since you rented it. Actually, uh,” she looked to Dad, then when he just sighed and nodded, still looking at his phone, she continued, “Actually, your dad and I bought the cabin. We were going to give it to you for Christmas since you like it so much and you’re so impossible to buy for. But now, with the circumstances what they are, it might be better if you move back home for now.”
Mother looked genuinely concerned, and Dad was still playing on his phone, which made no sense because he had an iPhone, and that was an android. When had he gotten a phone like mine? Looking closer, I finally realized that it wasn’t his phone he was playing with. It was mine.
“What are you doing?” I snatched the phone from his grip and saw that he had been trying to figure out my passkey. “Why the hell are you trying to break into my phone, Dad?”
“Honey, your father just wants to find out everything about this situation, that’s all. He’ll figure it out, and then we can get you moved home and comfortable.”
The penny dropped about half a second after Mother finished her last sentence.
“Oh, my God. How did you find out? Hell, I only just figured it out last night.”
